Hurricane
by silversurf4
Summary: Sequel to Firestorm - Dani deals with the aftermath of her father's death.  Charlie tries to help.  Rated M for sexual situations in later chapters.  COMPLETED? 16 Aug 2011
1. Chapter 1

**Hurricane**

The first time they made love was the day she buried her father. Dani was uncharacteristically needy and Crews was attentive and tender. He could not know that the woman he made love to that afternoon would disappear hours later and not make another appearance for so long that he thought he'd imagined them together.

Charlie remembered holding her that night and knowing they were in for a rough stretch but he had no idea how deep that hole went. The Dani he knew was fierce and at times tragic, but she was more alive than anyone he knew. The woman he held that night was docile, frightened and shy. He wanted to remember her smooth skin and the smell of her hair; but that night while she was mute and gentle, she was not Dani.

Conversely, she wanted to forget she'd taken refuge in him. Showing that level of need felt like weakness to her leaving her profoundly embarrassed. Despite the desire they both felt she was unable to overcome the feeling she'd used her partner which was part of the reason she left before he woke and in the following days his texts and calls went unanswered.

After four days he gave up and left her alone.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, Dani returned to work.<p>

He rose from his chair to greet her and was met by a scowl fierce enough to force him back into his seat. Twice he leaned forward to speak and twice she shut him down with a pointed stare. Then they sat in awkward silence until she turned and looked at him and spoke.

"I wanna say something to you," she started strong and powered through what she wanted to say. "I made a mistake and I'd like to keep working together but I don't know if that's possible," she stared past him at the wall behind him.

"You mean because you let me help you?" he asked.

"If that's what you want to call it," she tried to skirt any characterization of the joining of their breath and bodies in the quiet, shade of his bedroom the afternoon after the funeral.

The image of his flushed face and blue eyes above her flashed in her mind, forcing her to look away from him. Seeing him now with clothes on seemed strange. He was so comfortable being striped bare in front of her. His scars didn't seem to bother either of them that day. It turned out he did have tattoos – another question she could un-know the answer to. But the ugly prison tattoos didn't bother her. They were evidence of a well-fought battle one that he'd won; she respected them and what he went through to get them.

His hands explored every inch of her body as they lay in his bed and enjoyed themselves - repeatedly. When she closed her eyes for days after that she could still feel Charlie's hands on her.

She heard his laugh for the first time that day as they talked about everything and nothing. He told her stories from prison, some sad, some funny, all things she'd never known about or heard from him before. They were real to each other and with each other and she realized in those hours that for all she knew about him – there was still much to learn.

She'd left in the early morning hours while he slept without a word - ashamed of her weakness and indulging him. She didn't love him – not in the way he did her. She didn't allow for the possibility that she ever could.

The possibility that being together could break them apart never occurred to Charlie and he was still puzzling over it quietly in his head when their number came up. It was a new case, a new start, not an end – but not a beginning either.

* * *

><p>"Crews, Reese," Tidwell barked from his doorway. "Got a body in Century City. You two back?" A look passed between them that showed their indecision. "Detectives?"<p>

"Yeah," Charlie answered for them, "we're good. Tell them patrol units we're on our way. Reese? You with me?" He held his breath, but take charge Charlie was just what their current situation called for. She nodded curtly and reached for her battered leather jacket.

When she returned to work she was wearing her armor of old, the beaten, burgundy leather jacket. Charlie realized, she was just protecting herself after her father's death. It was one of the many ways he knew she'd regressed. He could also tell she'd started drinking again. The death of a parent is a profound loss – even one you dislike, because you still love them on some level. Dani was wrestling with this and she needed help – help she didn't want to take.

_Dangerous road ahead_ – the yellow warning sign read.

He was silent as she drove them to the scene. He was thinking about when his mother died and how profoundly it affected him. Being convicted for a crime he didn't commit, sentenced to life in prison, imprisoned in a federal maximum security prison and even his divorce were nothing compared to the news that his mom was gone.

Parents seem invincible even when they are not a SWAT Commander and the iconic police image you grow up emulating. Charlie knew this firsthand. The death of his mother rocked him harder than anything he'd ever experienced. He missed her every single day. Charlie loved his mother, even when she was imperfect; maybe because of those imperfections. He wondered if that was what drew him to Reese – her imperfection and the rawness in her. He just needed her to understand that he saw it – that realness she was unable to hide – that she didn't need to hide – not from him. He puzzled over their quandary on the drive being uncharacteristically silent.

"Say something," Reese demanded.

"Like what?"

"I don't know…" she bordered on a whine. "You always talk. Now you're not talking at all. Say something that will make me know I haven't screwed this up too. That I don't need a new partner. That we'll get past this and forget about it."

Something in the way she delivered the words chaffed him. While he understood her trepidation, he refused to believe that she could be so dismissive of their link. His anger came easily, a rarely used, but always ready and sharp answer.

The snap in his voice surprised even him," You have no partner but me, I have no partner but you and we aren't ever getting past anything - because it will never be over between us. You know it and I know it. Now grow up and deal with the fact that I love you or quit, because I'm not leaving."

He pulled down his shades and waited for her glare with his steel grey blue eyes. She did not disappoint blazing away at him with those smoldering nearly black eyes of hers. She blinked first, although he was thankful for the added distraction of her driving, which drew her attention way sooner than she might have otherwise lasted. They both withdrew to lick their wounds and the car was silent again.

Charlie considered all the time he'd wasted pursuing Jennifer who in his mind was still perfect, unblemished, shiny and new, when the woman he truly needed and who needed him sat no more than three feet from him for the past three years. Dani Reese was dark, tangled, tarnished and in some ways still broken, but in ways he wanted to help her fix.

But Dani rejected help almost pathologically; she was an island in the midst of raging storm. But if one could get there without drowning, she could be beautiful. He felt that he alone could see this in her and for that, for her, he continued to try in the face of her outright and forceful rejection. He was the battered lighthouse who stayed on the rock in the face of a mighty hurricane – Hurricane Dani.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hurricane – Chapter 2**

"You wanna tell me why you did that?" she challenged as they pulled to a stop outside the crime scene.

"Did what?" he played dumb.

"Told Tidwell we were okay because we both know that's a lie," she shot back ire in her tone. She knew he was being deliberately obtuse about her discomfort.

"So now you wanna talk about that?" He queried turning in his seat to face her.

She scowled and pouted, "no," before folding her arms and closing her body off.

"No? You wanna talk? Let's talk," he rapid fired. "Cause for days I tried to talk to you. To figure out what I did, why you left. I called, I texted, I came by your place. I felt like a stalker," he shot back his own anger.

This seemed to permeate her armor and she winced at his description. He let the comment hang there filling the air with the strange color and sound of his pain. "I didn't mean that," she admitted dully. "To hurt you. I didn't mean to hurt you," she repeated in an almost apology.

"I won't be that for you," he laid out his terms. "Your grudge fuck," he used ugly language that twisted oddly off his tongue. "I want us to be different," he explained.

"I just wanna get past it," she blew out frustrated air.

"What? Get past what? Us or your dad's death," he acted like his soul wouldn't be crushed if she chose both.

"There is no us. But I don't want to have to get another partner," she looked sideways at him. "I like my partner," she smiled slightly. "I need my partner," she confessed. "I'm no damned good at this Charlie. You know it and I know it."

"I don't think either of us have an impressive relationship track record," he replied tersely. "But I think there are things that you need to deal with about your Dad and how he died?" he offered cautiously.

"And how he lived. The things he did to people. The things he did to you," she explained. "And yes, I know those were his choices, not mine…"

"But you feel somehow responsible because of the path you chose?" he ventured.

"Kinda….yeah, I guess," she acquiesced. "I'm…"

"Struggling," he supplied the word.

She nodded.

"I know," he explained. "I know about the other stuff too," he told her staring through the windshield. "The liquor? The men?" he provided when she didn't own up to it immediately. Her chin dropped to her chest in agonizing embarrassment as her eyes slid closed. "It's not something you need to hide from me," he waited for her eyes to open, "but it's not good for you and I think you know that."

"I don't know what is good for me, Crews," she whispered.

"I am," he told her and reached for her hand. She pulled away out of instinct, but he tried again and she let him touch her the second time. She nodded her acceptance of his words and his gestures. "Now," his voice was sharper, "are we good?"

Her answer was hoarse from restraining emotion, but it was clear, "yes." But they both knew they were a long way from "good."

"Then let's go to work," he cracked his door, but waited for her to climb from the car first. He followed behind her, his long shadow covering her in darkness as they walked into their day.

* * *

><p>The case was an open and shut domestic homicide. When someone dies the most logical suspects are always the person with the greatest motive to kill them. It's fascinating that what scares us most is the prospective of random, unmotivated violence – being the victim of a serial killing by a stranger. People are most commonly killed by someone they know, by someone they love and this is particularly true for women.<p>

They worked through their theories talking aloud. The stream of consciousness they shared flowed together like two tributaries feeding the same river. They met in the deep water, but they swam in the stream together. This time when he reached for her, first with his voice and then with his hand, she did not resist. "Dani? I think we're done here. Do you wanna get some lunch?"

She nodded and came willingly. The anger was gone, but the caution remained.

* * *

><p>Forty minutes later, they were eating tacos in the sunshine, but she continued to carry darkness within and he could sense it. He wanted to help so he began to bridge the gap in gentle entreaties. "My mother died while I was inside," he boldly offered. Her head snapped in his direction and she waited for him to continue.<p>

"It gutted me. I'm not gonna lie to you. It was probably the worst time in my life," he admitted.

"If you're trying to cheer me up, you suck at it," she snorted a short false laugh.

He ignored her attempt to bat his inquiry away and pressed ahead. "You think it's the end of life. A loss that great? Even if you didn't like him… your dad. We never think of our parents as mortal, as fallible, as flawed – until one day we realize they are. That's hard, but it's not the end of everything," he paused waiting for him to look at him. He read the desire to know more in her eyes, so he gave it to her. "It's just the end of everything you know," he said calmly in a voice that let her know that he'd tread that same path in the dark alone too.

"Great," she sighed in annoyance. "So Obi Wan, wanna tell me how I go somewhere I don't know?" She asked incapable of holding the question inside but chaffed at the philosophical nature of their discussion.

"We all do it every day. No one knows what comes next, but everyone does it," he stated a matter of fact. He wasn't being glib, he was pointing out the obvious that we miss every day – quintessential Crews.

She glared demanding more with her eyes and that Reese stance that said "_tell me everything you know or I'll garrote you with your tie_," but she remained mute.

"You want me to tell you what to do," he offered. "But no one can tell you what to do," he watched her turn angry, "and anyone who does is guessing. They can't know what's best for you, when's time enough for you, only you can know those things."

"Then what the hell do I need you for?" she spat.

"To walk with you, to hold your hand in the dark so you'll know you're not alone. Maybe to protect you when you let me, to hold you close when you need that, to be your partner – not just at work," he boldly stated his intention remained that they would be together despite her insistence that they were not a couple.

"I don't think us sleeping together is a good idea," she countered. She watched as pain bloomed behind his eyes. "I'd be doing it for the wrong reason," she explained and the sharpness eased. "If we are going where you seem to think," she allowed the possibility and hope shined though him, "then shouldn't we both be in a good place to start?"

"Yes," he said simply. "Take all the time you want or need," he promised. "Just come back to me when you're ready. I'll be here."

She bit back the emotion that welled at his simple promise, "don't do that to me, okay?" Her question held a demand and a query.

"You're a masochist you know? You want me to just stand by and watch you fight when I have it in my power to help you and I won't do that," he was annoyed with her. Her normally imperturbable Zen master was pissed. That she could do that to him more than anything else let her know they were too close.

"What if I don't want your help?" she testily retorted turning her back to him and facing the ocean.

He appeared behind her as if he was teleported there. He wrapped him arms around her and held her tightly against him. "You might not want my help, but you need it." Everything from two weeks ago came rushing back to her. The heat radiating from his lean long torso, the strength there in coiled muscles and potential energy. The crisp scent of his cologne invaded her nostrils. She shuddered as the lick of his breath travelled along her jaw line as he spoke, "Why must you fight with me?" he murmured against her temple. He felt her relax briefly, just long enough for him to register her surrender. Then she stiffened and pushed him away.

"Lemme go," she elbowed him in the ribs, forcing him to release her and stalked away.

"I wish I could," he murmured to the wind that carried his comment away on the salt air. He wanted to help; she wanted help, but maybe not from him. He realized that while he knew she was what he wanted and needed; she might not feel the same way. He shook his head, collected his thoughts, schooled his features and returned to the car for that long silent ride back to the station. There would be no Zen, no fruit and no partners on that trip.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hurricane – Chapter 3**

Back at the station, he got the cold shoulder from her and the chill was brisk enough that Tidwell noticed. The Captain questioned with his eyes, Charlie shrugged and Tidwell waved him into his office and shut the door.

"Is she okay?"

"Is she okay to work? Or is she okay?" Charlie clarified the man's meaning.

Tidwell still cared for Dani and although it perturbed Crews he was careful not to let it show. "Both," Tidwell demanded.

Charlie heaved a heavy sigh and looked out into the bay. You could feel a volume of encyclopedias with just what he was contemplating about the young woman currently bashing the stuffing out of her keyboard. "She's….fine," he decided on the answer at the last second. "She'll…we'll… get through it," he pronounced.

"You know the Department has people she can talk to," Tidwell offered.

"Yeah," Charlie stiffened, "they're called her partner." The way he delivered the message contained a clear undercurrent – back off.

"You two are both so stubborn," the Captain said with his nose out of joint. Charlie glared at him. "You deserve each other," Tidwell glowered back and then eased up. "See if you can get her to stop taking her anger out on the computer. She's gone through two keyboards just since the funeral," he complained.

"I'll talk to her about it," Charlie acknowledged. "Can I go?" Tidwell nodded and Crews nearly ripped the door off it's hinges on his way out. He caught himself and avoided slamming it, but his ire was noticeable.

"Great," Tidwell said to himself. "Now they are both pissed off."

"Hey," Charlie spoke to get her attention. "Wanna grab a coffee?"

"I'm working here, Crews," she snapped. He stalked off without another word.

Ten minutes passed and without him staring at her with those damnable blue eyes. Then twenty minutes passed. She settled down and eased up on the keystrokes. Her typing became fluid and she finished what she'd been working on. She looked down at her watch. He'd been gone over a half hour.

She realized his closeness only infuriated her because of her fear of needing him. She had to hold onto her anger to keep from succumbing to the desire to be held by him again. She wanted nothing more than to melt into her partner's strong arms and watch those blue eyes, blond lashes and freckled smiling face until the rest of the world faded into oblivion. But Dani Reese did not do needy. She pushed him away and now he'd only been gone forty minutes and she missed him.

She walked to the big plate glass window overlooking the park and searched for the glistening shade of orange that could only be him. She was still searching staring out the window worlds away when he came back. Charlie found her alone in the conference room staring out the window at the park below just as her father had and it frightened him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he whispered harshly.

She wheeled and surprise colored her features. "Looking for you," her expression was neutral, not morose. She wasn't thinking what he'd thought she was and he was immediately embarrassed. His downcast look gave him away.

"What did you think I was doing?" She seemed mildly amused instead of pissed.

He stammered something unintelligible.

She shook her head and walked to stand in front of him. "You thought I was looking down there - like he did?"

He didn't answer. He didn't even look up and that alone was enough of an answer for her.

"Aren't you the one always telling me that I'm not my father?" It was an indictment he couldn't argue.

She walked past him and left him to ponder his own assumption. She grabbed her coat and readied herself to leave. There, on her desk, sat a tall "to-go" cup of coffee that he'd obviously bought for her. Tears pricked at her eyes. _Damn him_, she thought as she took the mocha and headed for the parking garage.

She was crying by the time she got into the car. It didn't help that she was having trouble getting it together enough to drive, but it was late and most everyone had gone home by then. She rubbed her eyes and put the car in reverse without looking. She felt the thump before she heard it. Panicked she slammed the car into park and bolted from the seat to see who or what she'd struck.

He lay on the ground holding his arm over his eyes.

"Jesus, Charlie – are you okay?" she knelt beside him. His given name slipped from her lips in concern, betraying her attachment.

"Of course, I'm not okay. You just hit me with a car," he stated the obvious in a pinched tone. He was hurt, but knowing him it could be anything from a bruise to a fractured pelvis – his reaction would be the same.

"Crews," she demanded and pulled at the arm he was using to shield his eyes.

He looked up at her smirking. "Next time just shoot me. It'll be quicker."

She should be pissed instead of what she was which was teetering on the edge of laughter.

He winked at her and squeezed her elbow. "Help an old man up will ya?"

She dragged him to his feet and he nearly fell over taking her with him. "You are hurt," she pronounced surprised.

"It's a car Reese," he complained. "I'm not Superman, you know?" She swore her sarcasm was rubbing off on him.

"I'm taking you home," she announced and they limped him to the door of her car. He fought her most of the way telling her he could drive himself. "You can't drive. Hell, you can't even walk," she scolded.

"So you take me home and then what happens?" he asked resisting being placed in her car. "We can have this talk here or in my driveway," he explained. "I'll want you to stay. You'll want to leave."

"If I stay, it's just to look after you. No sex," she warned. "I want your word."

He sighed looking at the roof of the garage.

"Crews," she barked. "Your word?"

"Uh...no," he stared down at her. "That's a promise I can't make."

She stared at him in disbelief.

Further debate was truncated by the simultaneous ringing of both their cell phones. That signaled something very bad had happened. LAPD maintained a panic button option, which simultaneously sent texts to all officers – an emergency recall. This usually meant a natural disaster, a riot, a prison break or some other catastrophe. It negated all talk of anyone going anywhere except back to work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hurricane – Chapter 4**

"Listen up," barked Tidwell. "We have two escapees from County. Both are armed and dangerous. They overcame two Corrections guys by force, killed them with their own weapons and took their uniforms and patrol vehicle. These guys were being locked up for home invasions in Beverly Hills where they killed a family unlucky enough to be home. Now, let's have a moment of silence for our brothers who died tonight," Tidwell said with a lump in his throat.

Everyone was silent and still. You could have dropped a pin in the bay and heard the echo down the hall. Two officers dead, two felons on the run, two families who would get the dreaded visit from a Department official and a Chaplain – basically any cop's nightmare. Those who prayed did so, those who didn't examined their own fears.

After a few moments, Tidwell continued, "Gibson and Haskey are handing out descriptions of the suspects," he gestured to the two men handing out papers still warm from the Xerox machine. "Texts will be pushed to your phone as soon as we can get them into the system. Now get out on the street and get these guys. Everyone works with a partner; everyone carries a radio and wears their vest. Watch your back; watch your partner's back. I want no more dead cops," Tidwell sounded very commanding. It was a remarkable transformation for the usually cavalier Captain. If anyone questioned why he was selected for the job, this removed all doubt. This was where he reigned. The good Captain was the king of chaos.

Charlie wanted to touch Reese he even reached out, but restrained himself about halfway there. He was surprised to find her hand brush his, her lithe fingers rolling across his palm. He looked down at his hand and when he looked up she blushed fiercely and pulled away. She had reached out to him (again) and that meant something.

They quietly shed their jackets in favor of their navy body armor with "Police" emblazoned in four-inch letters across the front and back. No need to be undercover tonight. The Department wanted the city saturated with an obvious police presence.

Charlie grimaced and hid his limp as they climbed into an already full elevator.

Two patrol officers at the back of the elevator were talking about a superstition prevalent among cops. "It's over man," one man said. "Deaths always come in three's," he reassured his partner. "That SWAT guy two weeks ago that took the header, plus these two – that's three," he continued chattering away oblivious to the fact the SWAT guy's daughter stood six feet away.

Charlie stared hard at both men. They didn't get the message and continued to debate it. "No man, the SWAT guy doesn't count - that was a suicide and he was retired," the second officer argued.

Dani's shoulders tensed and the strap muscles in her neck showed her discomfort and anger. Her fists were balled so tight she could feel her nails digging into her palms. Her teeth were clenched so tight her jaw hurt. Charlie watched her attempting to control her anger, resisting wheeling and laying into the men.

He turned in the tight space and looked the patrol officers directly in the eye. "You two – can it. Shut your mouths and do your jobs," he snapped.

One of the men opened his mouth to respond but the look on Crews' face shut him down. The rest of the elevator was silent and most of the people in it, including Dani, stared at the floor. It seemed to take forever, but finally the bell rang and the door opened disgorging the contents of the elevator into the garage. Dani sprang from the elevator like she was shot from a cannon.

Charlie rushed to catch her, encumbered by an aching leg and he struggled even with his longer limbs. Finally, he called out to her, reeling her back to him with his voice, "Dani, please wait." She froze and spun.

She spat the words at him, as if they were fired from a machine gun, "I don't need you defending me or fighting my battles, I don't want or need your help."

"I need yours," he admitted softly. "I need my partner. Otherwise I might as well go out there with no vest. Hell, I might as well go out there naked with a target painted on my back. Is that what you want?"

"No," she stubbornly admitted walking back to him. "Lean on me," she slid under his arm. "Maybe I should take you home," she offered.

"And let you go out there alone? Not a chance in hell, Reese." He gutted through it.

He grunted as he eased into the car, "unless you want a new partner?" This was the critical question.

Both of them wondered, _had they screwed up their partnership so bad that it had come to this?_

She did not answer him. Instead she shut the door, walked to the back of the car and watched his head drop to his chest. This man, who prison and the men in it had not been able to break, now seemed defeated and she had done it - by rejecting his offer of what? _Love, friendship, trust? Who didn't want those things? _She opened the door, took her place behind the wheel. It was yet another concession he made to her, letting her lead, letting her drive, but she wouldn't permit him to care about her. That is what brought them to this point. She turned the ignition switch and then stopped. She stared straight ahead and closed her eyes.

"I wanna say something to you, but I need you to let me talk. I need you to listen, okay?" He nodded and then she heard a low audible "yup." He knew this was hard for her and he was trying.

"I don't want a new partner," she began.

"But you don't want me either," he interjected.

"Shhhh," she hissed. He apologized softly and asked her to continue. "I don't want to want, but I do…want. And I want you. But you deserve more. I want you to have someone to lean on. Not just because she hit me with a car," she smiled softly, but kept her eyes closed.

Charlie turned in his seat to watch her. Her face was peaceful, not contorted like he expected. She was speaking from a place of control and strength.

"I'm not going to do what you think. I might have been headed that way, but you pull me back from the edge of everything. You ground me and I want you for those times when I don't feel strong enough to do it alone. But it's hard for me – trust…allowing someone to help me. I wouldn't let anyone else. I've never let anyone else," she told him her fears. "It scares the hell out of me…"

He couldn't resist touching her any longer, he leaned across the space between them and whispered across her lips, "I know, honey. I know," as he lightly touched his lips to hers. She reached for him leaning forward she captured his lips and it felt like the first time they'd ever really kissed. No one was in control, no one leading; they were both in that moment together.

He withdrew and waited and she made a confession that made the whole misadventure worth it. Being hit by a train would have been worth it when she breathed the words "I need you," in a whisper, "and it scares me to death."

"I don't want more. I want you," he said framing her face with his hands gently. "Take your time," he promised. "I'm not leaving…"

She opened her eyes and a tiny but true smile graced her features. "Now, let's go catch these bad guys, okay?"

She nodded, started the car and got them back in the fight.

* * *

><p>The abandoned police car was found in East LA, in the barrio, a place most Los Angelinos don't go after dark. Even some police officers won't enter the area run by Mexican gangs like "Los Aztecas" and offshoots of the Sinaloa Cowboy's drug cartel. But Crews and Reese rolled on in the dark, the pale skinned detective and his partner who could pass for a local as long as she didn't speak. Crews knew quite a few gang bangers from his time inside Pelican Bay and when word went out he was looking for the missing inmates informants with no love for the men came slinking up the block. They got a decent lead on where the men were hiding out, resulting in another disagreement. He wanted to go in, she wanted to wait for the SWAT Team.<p>

"Come'on, Reese," he negotiated, "we'll just go take a peek. We both know it'll take SWAT an hour to get geared up and down here – if they'll even come into the barrio at night."

"No, we're the only idiots stupid enough to be out here at night with no back up," she argued.

He grinned, "you got me," his bravado was endearing though it was not convincing, "who else do you need?" He stiffly climbed from the car.

"You are staying here," she directed. "I'll go in with our little friend here and see if I can spot them."

"Uh-uh," he shook his head.

"Relax, I'll blend," she smiled shedding her vest and unbuttoning her shirt to reveal her cleavage. "You stay in the car," she started to walk away.

He grabbed her by the elbow, "I said no." He looked at her with fierce determination. "It's not because of….well… you know…" he said sounding uncomfortably alluding to his infatuation with her. "It's not smart…tactically," he argued.

"No, I don't know," she stamped her foot in agitation. "How in the hell do you expect to do it? You're over six foot, whiter than a vampire and limping like you need to be on a stretcher. It's either me or we wait for SWAT," she couldn't lose this argument. She held all the cards.

He ran his hand through his short hair in frustration. "Ten minutes. If you're not out in ten minutes, I'm coming in after you," he vowed.

"I'll be back in five," she grinned. "I did undercover for three years. I've been in places far worse than this – relax," her smirk was cheeky and confident. This was her comfort zone.

He sighed heavily and leaned against the car in surrender. As the informant walked past, he grabbed the Mexican by his plaid shirt and told him, "see that nothing happens to her."

The young man laughed and attempted to brush Crews off. "I think she can take care of herself, vato."

Crews twisted the man's shirt pulling him up off the street. His words were spoken low and unheard by his partner. "She gets hurt and I'll break you into little pieces so small your mother won't be able to id you."

"Okay," the young man said. "I'll bring your girl back safe."

* * *

><p>Ten minutes went by agonizingly slowly for Charlie. He paced and fumed and checked his watch. Loud Mariachi music pulsated from the next alley, it was where she'd gone. He was cursing himself for being too impatient to wait for SWAT when he heard the gunfire erupt.<p>

He broke into a sprint, forgetting the pain in his leg and rounded the corner as the house emptied into the street. People were running everywhere, but Reese was not among them. He charged into the house, gun drawn and beer bottles littered the floor. The house reeked of cigarette smoke. On the floor in the kitchen laid the informant with three bullet holes in his chest. Charlie knelt beside the young man who now he could see was no more than a fifteen-year-old boy. He tried to put pressure on the boy's wounds, but he was already gurgling blood. He was dying fast.

"Where's the girl?" Charlie demanded.

"Took…took her," the boy sputtered before the light went out behind his eyes. He could hear the ambulance coming, but it would be too late for the boy. He was dead and Reese was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hurricane – Chapter 5**

Charlie wanted to stay with the boy, but Dani was seconds maybe minutes ahead of him and if he waited he'd lose her. He left the dead behind and tried to make sure his partner remained among the living. It was good they took her hostage because hostages only had value if they stayed alive.

He was slower because of his leg, but he moved as fast as he could following the trail of barking dogs along the alley behind the house. Lights came on as strangers alerted by the family pets of impending dangers helped him track the path of their flight. They slowed due to the amount of fight Dani Reese was putting up, allowing Crews to draw closer.

He heard one of them threaten her, "shut up bitch," followed by a hard slap as one of the men backhanded her. He needed to let her know he was there, that she was not alone, even though shouting risked giving away his position and let them know they were being pursued. They probably already knew that. It was a risk he was willing to take

"Reese?" he shouted phrasing her name as a loud question thinking perhaps they would think he was fumbling around in the dark and would stumble past them.

He heard her bark his name in response before someone clasped a hand over her mouth. Then there was a yelp letting him know Dani had bitten her captor.

"That's my girl," he mumbled to himself.

"Hang on Reese. We're coming for you," he shouted gambling they'd believe it was more than just one guy. He edged closer until he could hear her struggling on the other side of a six-foot wooden fence he could knock over with a good hard charge.

_What to do?_ He weighed his options. If he took a run at them the two men could kill her before he could manage both of them. If he waited, well…they might kill her anyway.

In classic Dani fashion, she wasn't being a very cooperative hostage. He could hear her struggling mightily against the man wrestling to keep her under control - _as if it were possible to control Dani Reese. _ Charlie thought about her nature and the impulse she had to fight. If he appeared, he wouldn't be alone, it wouldn't be two against one – it would be him and Dani against the bad guys and that was a fight he'd take.

He backed up and took a run at the fence. He wasn't heavy, but he hit it as hard as he could and as predicted the fence gave way. He came through it awkwardly facing away from the threat. The escaped prisoner shifted his focus from Dani to Charlie and moved his gun to draw a bead on the tall man. Dani threw herself at the bad guy's gun arm. The gun went to off and shot landed at Charlie's feet.

Crews spun and fired rapidly hitting the man in his shoulder and chest as Dani's momentum carried them both to the ground. The bad guy's gun was trapped under her, but he was hit soundly and not struggling anymore. Charlie scanned looking for the other prisoner, when he heard a snap behind him and knew he was dead.

The other man had circled around behind him and now had Charlie cold. He closed his eyes and waited for the shot. When it came he felt nothing.

Then he heard the man behind him fall in a heap and looked down to see Dani sitting on the ground smoke coming from the pistol in her hand. Behind him the man who was ready to kill him fell with a neat hole in his forehead right between his eyes. Charlie looked back to his partner once again amazed. She'd nailed the bastard literally right between the eyes.

"Bet you can't do that again," he quipped with a bit more confidence than he felt.

"Let's hope I never have to," she shot back flippantly. "Help me up."

"Do you always have to be so pushy?" he teased as he extended a hand to her.

She rose slowly, obviously in pain. "Good thing we'll both be on administrative leave pending the shooting inquiry, I need about a week in bed." Charlie's raised eyebrows made her laugh. "I didn't mean like that."

"Could be a lot of fun," he tempted, "and I have a hot tub."

"No wonder you never have problems getting dates," she retorted. He still hadn't let go of her hand. "Uh…can I have my hand back?"

"Uh…yeah," he said shyly releasing and taking a step back. He hit his leg wrong and nearly collapsed in a heap, when he found her suddenly under his arm and supporting him.

"Don't fall down again," she reminded, "once a shift is all that's allowed."

"How many times a shift can your partner hit you with a car?" he joked.

"I didn't mean to do that," she replied.

"I know," he looked down at her and they both stopped talking. The silence stretched and he felt the overwhelming impulse to kiss her again. He must have even leaned because she warned him in a tight whisper, "don't." He blinked and she disconnected. It wasn't unpleasant or angry, but more a sense that it would be improper given the circumstance and surrounded by dead escapees.

"Let's find the cavalry," he motioned to the alley where flashlight beams and blue lights bounced off buildings, trash piles and fences. "It's gonna be a long night."

They were solid together, good again; it flowed. They were back, he thought. Not the same as before but familiar, comfortable. He couldn't know how wrong he was.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hurricane – Chapter 6**

It was morning by the time they finished the paperwork, statements, evidence, witness depositions, and some 'quality time with IAD' going over the finer details of the shooting. It was many coffees later and edging towards noon when they were finally released to go home.

Officially they were both on administrative leave, guns in evidence until the shooting board could convene to clear them on what everyone knew was a good shoot. They both got an earful from Tidwell on the importance of backup and the capabilities of the Department's tactical teams, which was met with a matching set of eye rolls from the team of tired Detectives.

Dani restrained herself from any smart aleck comments, biting back her desire to tell the Captain that no one backed her up as well as the tall red haired man with his tie askew standing beside her. Charlie breathed deeply willing himself patience. After this long, she knew what he was doing instinctively.

When they were dismissed, Charlie made an attempt to continue their connection beyond work. Bleary eyed but with a winsome smile he asked if she'd like to get some breakfast. She checked her watch which read nearly noon and pronounced she was too tired and just wanted a bath and to fall into bed. Charlie hid his disappointment well and limped to his own car making his way home and collapsing into bed for almost a full day of much needed sleep.

* * *

><p>He was puttering around the house a couple days later when the distinct sound of Dani knocking on his front door came to him. She had a way of knocking that was unlike anyone else making him know it was her instantly. He could also see the small dark shape she cast against the opaque glass of his front door. He was smiling when he opened the door, but that smile evaporated quickly.<p>

She was hurt and it wasn't from the incident with the escapees. A sharp, fresh red welt traversed her cheekbone and her wrists bore signs of restraint.

"What happened?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to answer and the smell of vodka preceded her.

"You're drunk," he stated a fact.

"Yup," she admitted.

"Come in," he stepped back and allowed her inside. He made as if to help her and she knocked his hand away.

"I don't need your help," she slurred.

"Then why are you here?" he asked.

It was a simple question, but one she couldn't answer.

Again he motioned for her to come in, which she did. However, thanks to his aversion to clutter there was nowhere to sit, so they stood awkwardly in his foyer. Charlie jammed his hands in his pockets, trying to resist helping her and Dani leaning against a wall to keep from falling over.

"Uh, Reese?" he questioned as she stared blankly ahead in a trance. "Why are you here?

She blinked several times, opened and closed her mouth as if to speak, but no words came. She struggled for what seemed an eternity, but must have been about 90 seconds before the tears came, "I need your help," she whispered. She began sliding down the wall, but he was there to catch her. She went limp in his arms and he carried to the bed upstairs.

She lay there looking like a fairy princess. But someone had hurt her – her face bore a mark across the cheek that could only have come from a blow. These weren't the battle sign from days ago; this was fresh, red and raw. But who hurt her and when? He blew out a frustrated sigh as she whimpered and thrashed.

"Shhh, honey," he sat with her and gathered her against his chest.

"Charlie?" she reached for him with her voice.

"I got you. You're safe, sweetheart," he answered. He kissed her forehead and continued to reassure her until she slipped into an alcohol-hazed sleep. She slept fitfully, fighting phantoms and ghosts in her dreams. He stayed with her most of the day, taking short breaks only to phone her mother to check in and to let her know Dani was safe.

"I fear my daughter walks a dark path, Detective," she foretold what he already knew. "I remember you promising me you wouldn't not let her walk it alone."

"I won't," he vowed. He rang off and returned to his vigil.

* * *

><p>She woke in the dark of night, in an unfamiliar room, with a man and could not recall how she got there. It was hauntingly familiar – her dance with danger, her dalliance with strange men and the ache of failure in the following days. She tried to rise, but strong arms held her tight.<p>

Familiarity, comfort and ease tickled at the back of her brain. This was different. She twisted to examine the man who held her as her eyes took in the expansiveness of the room. Not the typical dingy hotel room, not the typical man.

Her partner's slack fair features were obvious even without light. The sharp line of his jaw, the pout of his eternally split lower lip, the ever present smile lines at the corner of his mouth, the cloak of blonde lashes that hid his blue eyes. Those eyes that looked straight into her, straight through her. Had she done it again? Come here to him for refuge? _Jesus, _she thought_. What he must think._

She made a more determined effort to rise. His eyes opened and he looked down at her and smiled. That made it worse. Her shame was overpowering. "Let me go," she demanded.

"No," he said firmly. She could not power her way out of his arms, he was simply too strong. She stilled knowing this, but she wouldn't look at him and he knew why. "Nothing happened," he reassured her. "You're safe," he coaxed her to engage. "Dani, look at me," he begged.

"I can't," she admitted powerful emotions sliding under the surface of the words.

"Because I love you and you don't love me back?" he asked simply like this was the easiest thing in the world to discuss.

"No," she objected out of habit. After a moment, she admitted defeat, "yes."

"I understand," he said.

"How could you? I don't understand. You're perfect. Handsome, rich, good in bed, you care about me and I'm just…"

"Not ready," he finished her sentence. She nodded.

"I'm far from perfect," he cautioned. She snorted in disbelief.

"I'm scarred, inside and out. I have marks on my soul; heavy, dark stains that will never come out. I've done very bad things, hurt people, killed people and yet somehow you think that you hold the license on self-loathing. You couldn't be more wrong," he explained.

"Yeah, well just add that to the long list of things wrong with me," she added darkly.

"Why would someone like you want someone like me?" she wondered. "We'd be a train wreck."

"And yet," he began. "Here you are," he swept hair back from her face and ran his fingers through it entranced by the coolness there. "I didn't go looking for you," he explained, "you came here. Why'd you do that Dani?"

"I don't remember," she lied.

"That's bullshit," he defied her. "Be honest with yourself at least," he softened his assertion at the end.

He felt her body tense, but she said nothing. She didn't bother to deny it.

"Tell me who hurt you," he requested changing tacks.

"Some guy," she said off-handedly. He waited for more and let her fill the void that he left by refusing to speak. "I…. I went out…"

"Drinking," he supplied.

She nodded owning it. "I went out drinking. I usually pick up someone to keep me company, but I didn't…I couldn't…." her breathing became erratic.

"Shhh," he coached as her breaths came in guilty gulps.

"I didn't want him. He got angry," she seemed determined to gut out her confession now that she'd started. "He tried to force me to…"

Charlie paled and froze. He'd never considered that someone might have raped her. Now the possibility filled him with a kind of fear he hadn't experienced in years. He asked the question because he had to know the answer and tried to keep the rage he felt from coloring his tone. He failed. "Did he rape you?"

"No," she shook her head as her chin trembled and tears welled behind her eyes. "I told him that if he did I'd kill him," she confessed.

"Good girl, smart girl," he exhaled a relieved sigh and found himself at the edge of tears himself. His grip tightened around her. It was as if he could not hold her close enough to keep her from harm. She pivoted in his arms buried her head in his chest and the tears came.

"I didn't want him because he wasn't you," she cried.

He'd done them to them both. His inability to resist her caused this. He wanted to comfort her but that would just make things worse. He was lost in thought when he realized she'd stopped crying.

He drew back and thumbed the tear streaks from her face. "It'll be okay," he said, "we'll get though this. It'll be…" he was still trying to reassure her when she kissed him. He froze unable to respond.

Then she did it again – she kissed him more soundly. There was no mistaking her intent. She tugged on his bottom lip with her mouth and then he felt her tongue as she wet his lip. She reached for his face and instinct took over. He groaned and pulled her against his chest.

She pulled away and he was relieved. His eyes slid shut and his head tipped back as he tried to regain control over his hammering heart, but Dani was not done. She knelt on the bed swung one leg over him and straddled him. His head snapped up and she was looking down at him and smiling. She looked like an angel instead of the confused little minx he knew she was. He didn't dare move lest the illusion evaporate.

"I didn't want him because he wasn't you," she repeated. This time when she kissed him it wasn't sweet and it wasn't gentle. She owned him, claimed him, branded her name onto his lips and as she sank her bottom onto his lap he lost all control or even the illusion of it. "Fuck me, Charlie," she begged him.

He knew it was a mistake, but one he couldn't stop himself from making. It was like a car crash you could see happening in slow motion, but one you are helpless to prevent. You slid towards it in eerie silence and the sound comes rushing back only just before impact. Then you are tumbling out of control, spinning, flipping and bouncing. You just wait for the noise, light and chaos to stop to see where you're cut, bruised and bloodied.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hurricane – Chapter 7**

He awoke knowing he'd made a terrible mistake, but that mistake lay still in his arms and she looked like a dream. They were in serious trouble.

His brain fired, her words came back to him. "Fuck me, Charlie," she'd said. Not "I love you" or "make love to me," but "fuck me," and that wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't what he'd told her he'd be for her. It wasn't what he swore to himself they'd become. But he'd fallen victim of his own baser instincts and desires; he wanted her sexually in an insane way and there in lay the problem.

Instinct was not the answer to their problem; it would only drive them further apart. And now she bore his fingerprints and teeth marks from their furious coupling in addition to her other scars and wounds.

For the first time in a long time, he wanted to be away from people, away from her. He longed for the solace of an 8x10 foot cell and no one to deal with. She would wake soon; he needed a game plan and he didn't have the slightest clue what to do.

He examined the broken, battered woman before him. She bore scars, like him, inside and out, he could not hate her for her weakness, nor pity her for it. Each of us deals with pain and loss in their own way. He realized had his mother's death occurred while he was outside of prison – his own manner of coping might have been different. Dani was strong before, she'd be strong again but first her wounds had to heal. Right now they were not – she wouldn't let them – she just kept ripping them open again and again.

She was marked with bruises, scabs and fresh raw red wounds, some souvenirs of their work together, still others evidence of their aggressive coupling throughout the night and yet others unexplained. Underneath all that she remained beautiful, with classic delicate features and a fragile soul.

He trailed his fingers over her features memorizing them, allowing himself a gentle tactile exploration she would never tolerate awake. He pulled back the sheet and ran his hands over the curves and angles of her letting the sensitive nerve endings in his hands absorb the warmth of her smooth skin.

He traced the curve of her shoulders, the delicate line of her collarbone; he traced the flow of air from her ribcage up her chest through her neck. Feeling the path of air in the body was a part of his meditation. He closed his eyes and felt the breath of life enter and leave her body. He retraced the soft skin of her cheek and noticed that in the absence of makeup she had light flecks of brown – freckles of her own across her porcelain cheeks and under each eye. Her long brown lashes hid her eyes, but the neat line of her brow was relaxed. She was at peace. Her eyes flickered then opened.

He expected the usual wry expression of dubiousness. She had no doubt felt his gentle exploration. Dani seemed to find it alternately unbelievable or awesome that she could mesmerize men with her body and face. Which options she chose to believe depended on what she wanted from them at the time. But her face and eyes held no choice this time, just a question. _Who is this man and why can't I figure him out? _

They returned the other's gaze for a long interlude – engaged in silent appreciation before her hands began the same traverse his had. She seemed to understand that words would break the delicate spell and instead chose to extend her caress only to his face, chest and shoulders. He leaned close and inhaled deeply, memorizing every sensation of her and as he withdrew she kissed him delicately, tenderly, hauntingly as if she were saying good-bye. But she hadn't left. She was with him and that meant something. He had no idea what.

* * *

><p>He made coffee while she showered. During the intervening time, while the coffee brewed he battened down the hatches and prepared for the storm to come. Charlie had made up his mind that what they were doing this was going to tear them both apart. There was a reckoning due. One way or another they were going to figure this out – or kill each other.<p>

He'd made choices that he could not undo. He'd set the stage. He'd hidden her keys (and his) under the sink in Rachel's bathroom so she could not storm off. He'd put her clothes in the washer, so they wouldn't be available should she wish to leave. If she were stubborn enough to strike out on foot, it would be a long walk with no shoes and dressed in just his shirt. Then he'd taken the extraordinary step of stashing her cell phone and his in a planter on the far side of the pool so she couldn't even call a cab and they wouldn't be disturbed. They were hidden in a place she'd never find even if she tore the house apart. He'd thought of everything, except what happened next.

When she reappeared in just his shirt, he shyly offered her a cup of coffee and remained uncharacteristically quiet. She sipped her coffee quietly and the house was still as a tomb. It was the calm that preceded a storm – like unto the eye of a hurricane. When after a bit, she wondered aloud where her clothes were - he told her, but she seemed to take it in stride. This surprised him.

"Are you going to leave?" He lobbed the opening volley of what he expected to be a long battle.

"Do you want me to?" she returned coyly.

"I just thought…" he began.

"Don't think Crews," she reminded him, "we've established you don't do that well. Let me do the thinking," she replied drolly.

"Hey," he objected and she smiled. She was teasing him.

He was off balance and unsure. _What if she had no intention of leaving? Was he ready for that? What if she was okay with where they were? Could he live with that? Live like that? _

"So," he plodded forward, "two weeks of admin leave," he left the sentence unfinished like so many other things in their lives at the moment.

She arched an eyebrow but did not take the bait. She was on to him. She was so very clever when her emotions did not rule her. Right now she was more balanced than he. He sighed in frustration and she smiled. "Spit it out," she directed. "Whatever you've got to say – say it."

"I don't know if I can do this," he admitted. "You got me spinning out of control here and it's not something I deal well with."

"Yes, because the Zen Master is always in control," she said somewhat acerbically. "I wonder if there is anything you say or do that isn't planned out or thought about." She didn't sound angry, just sad.

"You make it seem like being in control of your emotions is a bad thing," he offered.

"I think it can be," she walked to stand close to him. He stepped back. "Are you afraid of me Crews?"

"Uh….yes and no," he wrung his neck with his hand and took another step back. "I can't control myself around you – and you know it. Last night proved it," he held her eyes, "I told you before I wouldn't be that for you…. but last night…"

"Yes," she smiled. "Last night…" she looked directly at him, "was that painful for you? Uncomfortable? Not enjoyable?"

"Nooo," he shook his head. "It was none of those things and yet somehow it was also all of them," he worked the answer out in his head as he gave voice to his feelings.

He stared at her a long moment before continuing. "You make me feel things, good things…and bad things….like no one else has in a long time – maybe ever. But when it's over I never know if you'll walk away or if you'll stay. It's that part that I can't take."

"What you want... I can't do," she countered stolidly.

"What you want….I can't do," he repeated then qualified. "I won't do."

She looked down and he envisioned her getting angry, but when she looked up she saw something bordering on surrender in her eyes.

"Okay, you win," she said softly.

"What?" He questioned.

"What is it you want from me? Because I can't seem to do this without you…" she trailed off and walked away. He wondered if she was reconsidering her capitulation. Dani Reese didn't quit that easily – this was just the edge of the storm he realized.

"Dammit Charlie," she swore softly. "You don't think I understand your lack of control, but I do. I don't want to want you like I do – and I'm not just talking about the sex, but…."

"It's the closeness," he finished for her. "The trust we've built. You don't want to lose that," he offered and she nodded mutely.

They were in agreement; they were locked together in this – whatever it ended up being. Star crossed lovers, mates for life, partners through thick and thin, but together to the end - for good or ill.

"Let's get some lunch," he offered breaking the logjam of emotion and showing daylight and relief to them both. "Let's go somewhere and just be together," he ventured.

"I'd like that," she smiled softly. "But don't I need clothes first?" He was caught and he knew it.

"I put them in the washer so you wouldn't run off," he confessed.

"But that's not all you did," she pointed out. "My phone? My keys?"

"Yeah," he now looked like a child caught breaking curfew with his eyes downcast and his hands in his pockets.

"Hey," she demanded his attention. "I'm not leaving my partner."

"Promise?" he asked.

She nodded, crossed her heart with his finger and kissed it. "I hope I'm wrong, but for the record, I still think this is a mistake." Her skepticism was still apparent, but they were making progress – at least they were no longer fighting.

_**Author's Note:**__ This story got very few reviews, until one morning I awoke to find an inbox full of notices. While I appreciate everyone who reads and comments and I'm not passing judgment, I must be clear - if you are looking for slash or more elicit descriptions you'll be disappointed – that's not something I'm comfortable writing. I'm not sure if this spate of anonymous reviews soliciting very racy scenes and group sex were part of a spam effort or not, but that's never going to happen in any story I write. Please look elsewhere. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Hurricane – Chapter 8**

He'd returned her phone and keys. No words were exchanged about his actions; there was no need. They both knew he had and would continue to force her to look hard at the difficult things in her live. She knew he needed to because while her desire was strong, she lacked the will to go there alone. They tabled a discussion about her father in favor of food, but it would come and soon. It was a festering sore that affected every facet of her life and therefore their relationship – at home and at work. They had lunch, visited a fruit market and later she went home - to her home.

* * *

><p>Two days later she sat alone in her small, utilitarian apartment listening to an alternative radio station and thinking about the past couple months when a song she knew came on. She began to sing along, but as she did so the words rang truer than she'd ever recalled.<p>

"_I'm metal and I am steel. I don't mind because I don't feel a thing; I'm a diamond ring. I'm not flesh and I'm not bone. I'm not sad and I'm not all alone. I'm a stone. __The king is dead and the queen has flown. Left me here in the twilight zone. Lost and looking for a way to get back home. But there's no right and there's no wrong. So I'll be good and I'll be strong. I'll be silver and I'll be gold. __I won't be blood and teeth and skin. I won't feel the pain I'm in; I'll be tin, no heart within. I'll be metal and I'll be steel and I won't mind cause I won't feel a thing." ~~Metal & Steel, by Bob Schneider. _

Her father was gone; dead. Her mother was packing to visit relatives in Detroit; flown. Her old lover was gone too and it left her wondering if she was the metal. She'd tried to deaden her pain with her usual vices and found those didn't work. What did work was Crews. _Was she just using him?_ She knew she cared for her partner, but she refused to characterize it as love. Her reluctance was earned. Dani Reese didn't have the best luck with love. She was beginning to think she didn't really understand it and had never really experienced it - felt it - herself.

She'd experienced people loving her. Her mother loved her. Her father must have at some point, so far in the past that she had trouble recalling evidence of it, but he must have. Tidwell said he did, but she knew she did not love him. And then there was Crews...Crews loved her – there was no question. He'd demonstrated it a half-dozen times, but her desire to place him first – to demonstrate she felt the same way about him remained in doubt – not to him, but to her.

Thinking back to the refrains of the song, she realized that she'd always imagined Crews her tin man. His smiling shiny exterior designed to deflect all but the most pointed of jabs, but as she looked around her own apartment devoid of any personal touches she recognized the symmetry between herself and her quixotic partner. For different reasons they rejected connections to their world. She was avoiding pain; he said he was avoiding attachment. _What the hell did that mean?_

She turned on her computer and googled "Zen + attachment." The responses surprised her in both number and detail. One site read "attachment causes suffering" and it clicked for her. They were both hiding from the same thing and calling it by different names. They were both intentional loners, operating on the fringe at the edge of society, never fully part of this world – to avoid suffering, to avoid pain.

_Why was he different? Why when she could shut the rest of the world out- him she couldn't seem to resist? Was it because she loved him?_ She knew the only place she really felt at home, accepted and welcome was with him – Crews. He did not require anything of her – no need to pretend to be someone she wasn't. No desire for more than she was willing to give him. He was real and he wasn't metal or steel. He was a man with iron in his veins and steely blue eyes, but he was flesh and bone and warmth and comfort. He'd shown her this time and again, yet she rejected the link, the bond, the permanence he represented. Maybe it was time she stopped rebelling against the idea of him and just let him be. _She'd promised to try, but was she really doing that? _

Without a thought as to what she'd say she pressed the speed dial that would summon him; idly wondering why he'd been number one on her speed dial since three weeks after they'd met. Maybe on some level she'd known he was first in her heart, but her brain wouldn't let her make that leap.

"Hey," his voice sounded sultry as though he were sleeping even though it was nearly 11AM.

"Did I wake you?" she asked suddenly feeling guilty. Rumor had it Charlie Crews was no slouch in the romance department and perhaps he wasn't alone or had slept in because of a long night out. It didn't seem probable, but it didn't stop her brain from thinking about him with some one else and it annoyed her – the possibility of someone else with her partner, her…man. _There she'd said it_ – at least in her head she did.

"No," he chuckled, "well kinda. I'm on the patio in a deck chair and I guess I nodded off," he admitted.

"Crews you'll cook. It must be ninety outside," she chastised looking out the window at the hot LA sun.

"Thanks for the concern, but they have this things called umbrellas. Handy when you burn like I do," he replied good-naturedly. If he took offence at her chiding he showed no sign of it. "Ted got us a couple of them, makes it nice out here. You should come over sometime and see," he left the invitation open.

"Some time like when?"

"What are you doing now?" There was laughter in his voice and she could envision the mirth in his eyes as he spoke.

"Ugh…laundry," she complained.

"Why do that - when you can do nothing with me instead?" his smile was in her mind as his voice carried a pleasant tone.

"I'd better not," she backtracked.

"Reese?" he called to her.

"Hmmm," her mind wandered to whether he was wearing swim trunks, board shorts or a Speedo.

"Why'd you call?"

"I… uh…it's I just…" she stammered.

"Bring your suit. I don't have anything for you to wear," he told her before ending the call.

Part of her was annoyed at the arrogance he showed, part of her was turned on by the confident nature of Charlie Crews at play. The little devil on her left shoulder said "go, have a few near beers, he was good before – this could be fun." But the little angel on the right shook it's head saying, "he's your partner, you aren't sure of this, you shouldn't." But Dani Reese never really listened to even her better angels, so she fished a canary yellow bikini from her dresser and grabbed her keys. "_Fuck it,"_ she thought, "_Worst that can happen is we end up in bed together again and that wasn't bad the first go couple go rounds."_


	9. Chapter 9

**Hurricane – Chapter 9**

He greeted her at the front door wearing red swim trunks reminiscent of the LA lifeguard uniforms on Baywatch. Crews missed the Baywatch fad entirely due to his stint in prison and any jokes at his expense would have been senseless. Instead she just smirked at him.

He had a thick white towel hung around his neck. If he wasn't shockingly pale skinned he could have been a lifeguard. His physique showed evidence of muscular cuts that some men spent hours in the gym carefully cultivating. She knew from his stories there was little for him to do but work out for those twelve long years and he came by his six-pack abs through boredom rather than vanity.

"You coming in?" he wondered while the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. He knew she was checking him out and he kinda liked it.

"Sorry, I've just never seen anyone that white who didn't burst into flames in direct sunlight," she joked and brushed past him. The vampire thing he got.

He gave her a polite smile and an extended formal bow with flourish. "Welcome to Casa de Crews," he bordered on theatrical. "Would you like something to drink? I have orange juice, pineapple juice, tomato juice, lychee juice and my personal favorite – mango juice. We're all out of blood this week."

"I'll have whatever you're having and a bathroom to change in," she answered hurriedly. "Where's Ted?"

"Visiting his daughter and grandson," he replied pointing, "you can change in there."

He refreshed his drink and poured her a tall glass of the rich orange nectar before retreating to the patio to give her space. He was just beginning to worry when the French door leading from the house opened and she emerged wearing a very nice yellow bikini and his mouth turned to cotton.

Charlie knew his partner was attractive. He knew she was virtually irresistible to him. He knew other men found her desirable, but he'd never actually used the word "hot" towards anyone until that moment. He knew instantly what they now meant by that word. She sizzled. His eyes watered from just looking. She was stunning.

"Stop staring," she whispered as she took her drink, "it's impolite." Her eyes let him know she knew the effect her body had on him and a sly seductive smile graced her lips.

He blinked twice and then closed his eyes to calm himself. When he regained control she was gone, having slid into the pool.

"Are you going to swim with me?" she asked coyly.

"Absolutely," he dropped the towel on a chaise and stopped briefly at a table to deposit his drink.

They made it back and forth, the length of the pool twice, before touching limbs gave way to caresses and he pinned her against the wall in the shallows. "Tell me you didn't just come here to swim," he said breathlessly.

"I didn't just come here to swim," she replied.

His eyes contained a mixture of confusion, awe and excitement. "You said this was a mistake," he argued her previous objection.

"Everything I do is a mistake," she brushed her leg against his.

His arms bent covering her with his shadow and then flexed again withdrawing, "I don't want to be something you regret."

"Then don't be," she countered with a saucy pout.

"Tell me what you want," he leaned close blocking the sun again.

"I want you to kiss me," she told him plainly.

If she was expecting the gentle man who held her in the hours after her father's funeral, she'd come to the wrong house. He did not live here – not today. Charlie left one hand on the rim of the pool, but the other encircled her waist and pulled her to him as he stepped towards her. He locked her in a searing kiss that threatened to make the water in that pool boil. He backed her against the wall of the pool and kissed her until she begged for air.

"Charlie," she was breathless.

"Too much," he questioned in a far deeper voice than she recalled him having.

"I can't breath," she whispered as he moved to her neck and jaw line.

"Now you know how I feel," he mumbled across her throat. "What were you thinking wearing that bikini here? God, you look so good in that," he rambled, as was his fashion.

"I look better out of it," she taunted.

He drew back and pulled on the strings holding her top together at the neck and back. He tugged and the top came away in his hand revealing her breast glistening with pool water. Charlie groaned, "I think we need to go inside."

"I like it out here," she teased.

"I have neighbors," he responded. "You'll start a flash mob."

"I don't think a flash mob is what you think it is," she giggled. He reached under her in the water and picked her up. "You need to put me down right now Crews," she demanded laughing.

"I'll put you down when we're safely in my bedroom," he instructed, "where I can have my way with you without an audience." The distinctly bedroom timbre of his voice gave her chills.

They made it halfway up the stairs before the things she was doing to his neck and ears made him put her down and pin her to the wall both hands above her head.

"Stop doing that," he growled as he rubbed against her.

"You don't seriously expect me to do anything you say," she teased.

"Dammit, Dani," he growled. "Don't make me take you right here in this stairwell," he threatened releasing her hands and kissing her hard.

"I want you inside me Crews. I don't want to wait another twenty seconds," she urged pulling at the shorts tented around his erection. She reached into his shorts and grabbed him tightly. "Take me now, Charlie." She demanded dragging her fingernails up his bare thighs lightly.

He pressed her against the wall with another deep kiss as he undid the ties on her bikini bottoms. When he drew back it was to wrap his arms around her and hoist her over his waist. "Here honey? You want it here?"

"Don't call me honey," she complained in frustration just before she bit the sensitive joining between his shoulder and neck and he slammed them against the wall in his own expression of frustration. He softened the blow with his forearms but she could feel his strength and his restraint.

"I want you here," she teased gyrating her hot center against him. She was carefully shredding his control and she knew it.

She wrapped both arms around his neck and hoisted herself higher as he used his right hand to free himself from his shorts. She sank onto his tip and he moaned in anticipation. She felt every twitch of him before his restraint snapped and he slammed into her with a sharp sting. They both groaned in pleasure as he filled her and they began a rhythm that rocked her back against the sheet rock.

Her elbows were over his shoulders and her hand sunk deep in his red hair. She was screaming she knew it, but couldn't help it as he plunged deeper and deeper with each stroke. He was beyond control as his orgasm ripped through him and she shredded any attempt he could make at an orderly withdrawal by kissing his temple and licking his lips before kissing him again. She drew his breath away and as he released her they both leaned against the wall for support.

He looked deeply into her eyes and begged her to not regret them again. "Come to bed with me and stay til morning?"

"Only if you promise to do that again," she smiled at him.

"As often as I can manage," he promised. His hand found hers and they walked to the bed together. "Which side do you like to sleep on?" he asked shyly.

"The side with the big red headed guy on it," she teased.

He pulled her onto the bed with him. She lay atop him and he stroked her naked body with his warm palm and fingers. They lay still exploring one another for a long time. Then he kissed her and it was simple, sweet and honest, "Will you stay?" She consented and it showed in her eyes.

"I tried to stay away," she confessed. "You burn through me like a fever."

"This did not go at all as I envisioned," he confessed. "I watched the movies, read the books. I'm supposed to win you over with flowers and candy and romantic gestures," he explained.

"Turns out all you needed was a pool," she joked.

"Why did you change your mind?" he became suddenly serious. "You have changed your mind right?"

"I was wrong," she admitted.

"About us?"

"About me. I thought I needed to be alone. I thought I deserved to be alone. I thought I wanted to be alone," she gave him her truth, "and I still think that I'll need that some times," she cautioned. "But when I don't want to be alone, the only person I want to be with is you."

"You know that means you love me, right?" he smiled brightly.

"Don't push your luck," she warned but her smile let him know her warning was a gentle one. "Maybe I just love your pool," she mocked him.

"Just to be sure - I'll be keeping that bikini," he goaded, "maybe even having it framed or mounted," he joked.

"I got your mounted, Mister," she slid down the length of his body rubbing against every inch of him along the way.

"Dani," he warned.

"Don't move," she edged closer to his pulsating member. She straddled him and eased herself onto his erection. He reached for her but she intercepted his hands and pinned them over his head bending to kiss him. He slipped from her opening, but when she sat up again she reseated him inside her slowly raising her hips to piston him in and out at an agonizingly leisurely pace.

"Oh, god, Dani," he moaned grabbing her buttocks to pull her tightly against him.

"No," she wagged her finger at him. She took both his hands and placed them on her breasts and patiently explained. "My turn to drive," she rode up and down the length of his shaft and his head dropped back and he groaned again. His hands tightened and he had to force himself not to hurt her as he tried not to hold her too tightly. In his head he knew her body would bear marks from his fingertips in the morning.

She picked up the pace and his breath hitched. His chest rose and fell in erratic breaths. "How badly do you want me now Charlie?"

He couldn't answer save to flip them over on her back pinning her to the mattress. His eyes were a deep electric blue as he told her. "Worse than any drug, worse than any fruit, worse than anyone ever – I want you Dani." He thrust wildly, deeper, harder and faster and was rewarded with his mumbled name from her lips. He grunted as he reached his climax and collapsed against her. "I want you, Dani. I'll always want you, only you, honey. I love you."

He braced for her recoil even as the words slipped from his lips, but she simply stroked his back and ran her fingers through his short hair. She kissed his temple and shushed him and the world faded from view as blackness overtook him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hurricane - Chapter 10**

When he woke, she was gone again. The bed beside him was empty although he could still smell her, feel her warmth. He groaned; his brain raged – _not again._ Then he heard the shower running and his grin could have lit the runway at LAX. She'd stayed.

He waited an acceptable amount of time, or what he thought was an acceptable amount of time, but he still cleared his throat before he walked in.

She smiled at his shyness, "Crews, we've had sex at least a dozen times. I don't think you have to…" she trailed off as his hands trailed over her shoulders and he bent to kiss her neck.

"Hmmm," he hummed against her skin. He lifted his head, "you were saying?"

"I forget," she admitted. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her.

"We can do this, Dani. I think it'll work," he offered innocently.

She sighed her disagreement but did not give it words to walk on. Her trepidation skulked in the corner like a sullen child. He was winning her over, slowly – inching away from the idea that this was huge mistake. With every passing moment, he was convincing her heart to come out and play – that it was safe with him – that he would not hurt her – ever.

Of course, he continued to talk because talking was what Charlie did. "If two people as damaged by the world as we are – can learn to trust again, to love again, then anything is possible," he wanted her to believe to.

She wheeled to face him. "How can you believe that after everything you've been through?" She wasn't angry or confrontational; she genuinely wanted to know how someone who had endured what he had could still believe in innocence, love, happiness. She didn't.

"What other choice do I have?" He smiled into her hair. She could not see it but she could hear the smile in his voice. "If I close out the world, then I never really got out of prison," he explained. "I want to be free. Free to take wild chances on things that might not work, but that I really want. And you're what I really want."

"Thought you said love had nothing to do with want," she questioned, hearkening back to his commentary about the people scattered throughout the city in steamer trunks last year. "Last year with the people in boxes…you said love had nothing to do with want."

"Need – I said love has nothing to do with need," he corrected. "It has a whole lot to do with want," he kissed her softly and withdrew, "and desire," he revisited her mouth, stoking the fire there, "and longing." She seized his t-shirt on his third trip to the well and pulled him into her hot eager mouth.

"Stop playing games with me," she kissed him aggressively. He groaned his want as she ground her pelvis against his.

"Do you listen to everything I say?"

She denied it immediately with a "no" so eager it sounded like a yelp.

"You do," pride snuck into his voice, "you do listen to what I say. Otherwise how would you remember something I said over a year ago?" He questioned her seriously, wonder apparent in his features.

"Okay," she rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I listen to the stuff you say," she acquiesced. "Some times I remember," it pained her to admit it.

'Then you remember this Dani Reese, I love you," he held her face in his hands, "and I probably always will," he told her honestly again looking at her to gauge her reaction. The panic he expected was not there.

"Probably?" she gave him a raised brow in playful inquiry.

"I'm dead serious," he countered pressing his advantage.

"I know that," she said in response. Her confession was strong and her truth clear and brilliant. It cut him in beautiful and elegant ways. She owned him and she knew it. "I just never expected to be satisfied with anyone again. I didn't think I could," she gave away her power position. She let him have the truth – all of it. She went as far as she was willing to go, she'd let him love her.

* * *

><p>A week later, Tidwell called with the good news. They were returned to duty four days shy of their two-week suspension. Charlie wasn't nearly as eager as he'd thought he'd be. Dani didn't appear thrilled either.<p>

They both took the news in stride, but knew that serious challenges lay ahead. They would return to work where they'd have to pretend they weren't sleeping together and they weren't spending a lot of time together. Reality had intruded upon their vacation from it and it proved harder than either of them had imagined.

After touching each other a lot in the preceding two weeks, it would be difficult to hide at work, difficult to resist. Dani found she stood nearer him than before, almost always in his shadow now. His hand placement when talking to her was often over her head, against a wall, leaning into her. He always held her eyes. He stayed close enough to smell the scent of her perfume, shampoo and sweat sometimes. Occasionally for no reason and with no warning, he would simply lean in and lave her neck lightly with his tongue, cool the area with his breath and then plant a warm wet kiss over the coolness. It nearly always made her lose her train of thought.

They held hands in the market and his hand was on her back anytime they went through a door he opened for her. When their hands weren't joined, she found herself reaching for him, fumbling until his long, lean fingers wove between hers and his warm palm claimed her smaller hand as his. He cared for her in tiny gestures and she let him.

He got her coffee and knew just how she wanted it. When she'd caught him habitually tasting it first, she'd scolded him, until he whispered in a low voice that he wanted to make sure it wasn't too hot. He later confessed, that he loved to revisit the flavor later while kissing her and it was a guilty pleasure of his – the before and after taste of coffee from her lips.

They were eating dinner out two nights before they were due back when Charlie asked her to consider taking the weekend and deal with the lingering issues of her father's death. She stared at him in disbelief.

"You have to deal with it some time – I think that time is now. I think you're ready," he told her. "I think that we're going to have a harder time than you think," he voiced his concerns, "pretending that we aren't more than we were two weeks ago – that things haven't changed."

"And you think dredging up my problems with my father are going to help this how?" she wondered with more snap in her voice than she wanted. They had experienced nearly a week with no drama and she didn't welcome the return of the world of drama to her life.

"I think that until you know answers, the questions are going to cause you doubt. Doubt is not something we need. We need to be sure of one another and for that to happen I have to tell you some things that might be painful," he countered.

"More painful than my father throwing himself off a roof?" she barked.

"Yes," he answered levelly, "to die physically is one thing but to lose your illusions about someone is a different kind of death."

"And did you lose your illusions, Crews?" she questioned testily.

"Only about myself," he responded. "I still suffer from illusions about those that I love," he told her plainly.

"Meaning me?"

He shrugged. He was mute in his own way of rebellion. She'd begun to learn his tells and Charlie didn't fume and rage, not with her. When he became angry, he said his piece and then fell silent – gravely silent. It drove her berserk and he knew it.

She was now pissed. "I'm going home. I have to get ready to go back to work."

He drew her close and called her back with his voice and his eyes, "Dani, don't…"

"C'mon Crews," she pointed out weakly. "We're no good for each other. This has disaster written all over it." She admitted her fears. "We've had a great week, but this can't work."

"It can if you want it to," he vowed. His hand strayed to her hip and the other brushed hair from her face. She closed her eyes and breathed - willing him to stop, but her body betrayed her as she felt herself melt into the lines of his taunt torso. His grip tightened and his warmth seeped into her easing knotted muscles and tired bones.

Tears slipped from her eyes as the one man she trusted implicitly held her close. A deep breath eased from her as his head sunk into her hair and he inhaled deeply. "Why can't we just have sex? We're good at that," she told him what worked for her.

"We can do that, but tonight I just wanna sleep with you, Dani," he promised into her ear in a low tone. "You can do that can't you? Let me hold you while we sleep?" His offer rode on a tempting silken tone. "I want us both to have one night of peace," he kissed her neck as he withdrew.

He both felt and heard the sharp intake of air and her shudder involuntarily. He waited for her eyes to open and what he saw there gave him his answer. Alone in quiet moments she was his again, maybe just for the night, until the world intruded and drove her away again.

"Charlie," she whispered. "Please don't…"

"Shhh," he placed two fingers over her lips. "Stay with me, Dani," he pled.

She didn't answer, but she got in the car. Twice on the way to his house, he tried to talk, but she shut him down. She wasn't mad; she was thinking. When she pulled to a stop in his drive she asked him hard question.

"Are you willing to accept that all this might ever be is sex? Are you willing to understand that I don't do monogamy, marriage, family, kids? Are you Crews? Cause I think you and I are wired differently. I don't want what you want, what Tidwell wants – it's too much."

He considered her words carefully. There was an important qualification in what she'd just said. The word she chose was "might." It was evidence of her changing mind. She was leaning his way, much more than ever before, but they were a long way from what he wanted. He turned and faced her, "I'm willing to give what you'll let me have – for now. But I will always want more. Can you handle that?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I'm not used to people expecting things from me. I'm a screw up and everybody know that."

"I don't believe that shit for a second," Charlie's rare use of curse words emphasized his belief was heartfelt. "And deep down neither do you, but it's easier for you to accept failure. Failure is easy. Success costs," he sounded dour as he ended his statement, "believe me I know."

"I'll stay," she told him. "But when you get your heart broken, don't say I didn't warn you," she foretold their future.

"I'm tougher than I look," he promised her as he left the car and went inside.

His disappointment in her assessment of their future showed, but they were too far down that road to turn back now. That road either widened into a superhighway or was a dead end and only traveling it would tell.

"I hope you're as tough as you think you are," she spoke the words to the empty air left in his wake. It wasn't clear if they were meant for him or herself, but she followed him in the house anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hurricane – Chapter 11**

Charlie was making espresso with a shiny machine downstairs in the kitchen. He was whistling a happy tune and banging around the kitchen. The racket echoed up the empty hallways of the house until it sounded like a herd of wild elephants from the circus were taking up residence downstairs. In general, he was making sufficient noise to raise the dead. That was classic Charlie, she realized. There were some things he just couldn't manage without make noise or talking. The thought that she knew that about him made her smile.

It had been a long time since she'd been close enough to notice those subtle things about another person. Sure she knew things about Tidwell, when they were dating, but only because he professed them often. Charlie, if challenged, would deny he couldn't keep still or silent, but she noticed and she noticed because he mattered to her. They were far past the point where his idiosyncratic lapses or odd habits annoyed her, she'd begun to accommodate them and him in her life. Charlie Crews had seeped through her carefully constructed defenses and into her heart and it was getting harder to deny and impossible to ignore.

Ordinarily, the racket would have unnerved her. Of course, she thought, ordinarily she'd have been, sore, sleep deprived and hung over, but true to his word Charlie simply held her close. They passed a peaceful night together as he protected her from what was yet to come for at least one more night. They enjoyed a deep, dreamless sleep together. She felt safe in his loose embrace and he knew she was close and therefore didn't worry; each providing that essential to the other's relaxation and ease. They fit together physically and psychologically. They relied on one another; light and dark, day and night, yin and yang, two halves unbalanced and incomplete without the other. She was serene and well rested.

And now they were about to purposefully and deliberately wreck that peace. For what?

Answers – that he had, that she needed, that wouldn't fix anything.

Her father would still be dead. Any semblance of innocence or naïveté about her father had long since passed into history. The flashes of a smiling man who helped her learn to ride her bicycle seemed like someone else's life now. Most of what she could recall was his bitterness, spitefulness and a meanness she always felt was personally directed at her. Dani grew up thinking her father hated her – because she was not the son he wanted. She became a cop and chose the toughest jobs in an effort to win his approval – perhaps a measure of his love, but nothing worked.

Then he died suddenly, by his own hand, before anything she said or did made an impression on her father – beyond disappointing him. Dani's father was a subject she'd rather not talk about at all. Part of her was almost glad he was gone and she wouldn't have to endure his disappointed scowl ever again.

She finished fixing her hair, set her shoulders and went downstairs to face what Crews said she needed to. She was mildly annoyed that he got to dictate what she needed to know, but deep down she knew he wouldn't hurt her and he was usually right about 'facing your demons.' He'd done it enough to know. The man could probably face down the devil himself.

She watched him working and whistling as she leaned in the doorway to the kitchen. He was talking to himself, which made her think he needed a dog. People who talked to pets somehow didn't seem as crazy or unbalanced.

He looked up and noticed her. The smile that graced his face was genuine and slightly puzzled. "Have you been there long?"

"Long enough to know you talk to yourself like a schizophrenic," she smiled back.

"Ha," he laughed, but then seemed to consider his behavior internally. "Bad habit I picked up in prison," he seemed to shrug it off.

"Could be worse," she quipped in a sardonic commentary, "you could have picked up worse things in prison," she explained.

He cocked his head to the side and considered her. _Did she really consider him talking to himself an indication of his mental health? Did he?_ He remembered a time when he used to.

"Earth to Crews," she waved her hand in front of him. "I don't think you're seriously cracked in the head. At least not any worse than I am," she said patiently. "Actually, it's kinda sweet," she kissed him lightly. "Now, where's my coffee?"

"Uh, here…" he reached for her cup, "Wait, I have whipped cream."

"Save that for later," she winked at him. He grinned and hoped their evening would contain some element of fun. The day ahead would be tough for both of them.

* * *

><p>"Okay," she pronounced. "I'm ready, let's do this."<p>

He admired her fearlessness. Dani Reese could probably stare down and freight train and force it from the tracks. He stumbled trying to find a way to begin and she sensed his discomfort, "I'll start. Did my father send you to prison?"

He released the tightness in his chest and held her eyes as he told the tale, "not exactly," he began. "Kyle Hollis was your father's confidential informant. Hollis killed the Seybolts. Tom and Paula first, then Tommy…" his voice carried emotion at the loss of his friends. "Only Rachel escaped," he finished. "Your father hid her. Carl Ames wrote her out of the report. Said she was at a sleepover, but she was there. She saw the killings." He took a deep breath and watched her face for a sign he could continue.

"So that girl?" Dani motioned to the foyer. "Here in the house? That day? That was Rachel Seybolt?" He nodded and waited while she connected the dots.

"How did you find her?" Dani questioned. She'd jumped ahead and was already pursing the matter in her quick little brain.

"The day you and Bobby were looking for the gun in the marijuana grow? I had a lead on Hollis and I found Rachel then. I lost her for awhile, but I found her again a couple weeks later. She was in the hospital getting help and then I brought her here after."

"And now? Where is she now?"

"I sent her away when Roman threatened her. I would have sent you away if I could have, but you'd have never gone…" he explained. "And we all know what happened then…" he left the comment hanging.

"That's why she looks so familiar. That's why I think I know her," Dani said thoughtfully. "I think my father brought her home once. It was why when I met her that day I wondered."

"I thought you thought we were…" he wrung his neck uncomfortable at the insinuation or thought that he'd be with a girl as young as Rachel.

"No," she clarified. "She's a little young for you don't you think?"

"Yes," he eased and a tightness in his shoulders eased. She didn't think he was some kind of pervert, a man pushing forty and dating a nineteen-year-old girl. He knew some men did but he wasn't one – even if she hadn't been the almost niece he'd given piggy back rides to at the age of seven.

"Did she remember you?"

"Not at first," he thought about Rachel and their tenuous bond. "I think some days she does, but most of that time she's blocked out entirely because of the trauma. She's still a very troubled girl, but I'm all she's got," he explained.

"Shoulda told me you had a kid before we started sleeping together," Dani joked.

Charlie's smile was tight, but he knew she was trying to inject some levity into a dark subject.

"And now?" she wondered drawing him back into the conversation.

"She'll come back – I hope," he thought aloud. "Now that it's safe."

"Is it safe Charlie?"

"I don't know," he admitted his blind spot, "I don't think I ever knew."

They both fell silent for a few moments. He chewed on his misunderstanding while she processed the information he'd given up. He'd misjudged her as jealous, but she wasn't. That was probably his ego hoping she'd been interested in him for as long as he'd been eyeing her with more than partnership in mind. It made him think that maybe the reason she was resisting him was that this was newer for her than for him. At some level, even in the depths of his denial he knew that Reese was his "one." Perhaps she just needed more time.

"Crews? You here?" she rang the familiar refrain for his mental wanderings. It always amazed him that Reese would ask such an unintentionally Zen question. She wasn't dumb and she knew when she hung him up on the fork of his own points about Zen. She sparkled with intensity and interest.

"Yeah, honey," he said softly squeezing her hand, "I'm here."

Her eyebrows showed her distaste for an affectation he just couldn't seem to keep from rolling off his tongue, but she didn't chastise him. He knew she didn't like it; she knew he wouldn't stop. It was their own little battle royal that no one cared to fight anymore. There were so many bigger problems brewing.

"You didn't answer my question," she noted. This time her question was more pointed, "Did my father put you in prison?"

"Not directly," Charlie admitted.

"But he knew you were innocent," she correctly intuited.

"Yes," Charlie held her eyes. "He knew. Just like he knows who killed Carl Ames."

"I thought you assumed he did it," she countered.

"For awhile I did," he admitted. He remembered confronting Jack in Karen Davis' office after he placed his surveillance photos in Jack's morning paper. But the man's face and eyes held a certainty about the matter than made Charlie examine his suspicions. He remembered Reese sitting uncomfortably in the bay watching him and her father go at each other through a layer of glass. Even then she didn't want to talk about it - she just wanted to work the case. "He was neck deep in this, but I don't think he killed Ames. I think they were friends and I think they were both in over their head."

"So Ames ends up dead and my dad goes into hiding," she thought out what came next. "Not because of what I said…but because of something else," she posited softly.

"What?" Charlie questioned softly, gently asking for clarification. "What do you mean – what you said?"

She seemed annoyed at him, distracting her train of thought, but this was a give and take. They were both losing their illusions here. "I asked him one night at dinner. A family dinner, nieces and nephews sitting around a table while my father held court. Something about his supreme confidence and air of superiority irked me. I don't know why I said it, but one minute I was staring down the table at him and the next I was asking him if he really put a man in prison for something he didn't do?"

"Me?"

She scoffed. "How many men do you think I know who've been wrongfully imprisoned?"

"What did he say?"

"Uh…get out of my house – that's what he said," she told him with a tiny bit of embarrassment. "Right after that he left," she continued, "I thought it was because…"

"Of what you'd said? Of what you asked?" He finished her thought. "No, honey. It wasn't you or anything you said," he promised.

"Crews," she warned gritting her teeth as his pet name for her tumbled from his lips again.

He rolled his eyes, "Does it really bother you? Or do you just want not to belong to someone? Because you do – Dani," he stuck his chin out, "belong to someone… You belong to me." Her eyes flashed anger as he finishing comment stole the heat from them, "and I belong to you."

Her downcast eyes told him she was grudgingly starting to accept a fact he'd known for months.

"I don't suppose I can stop you," she sounded disappointed and resigned.

"You're learning, grasshopper," he joked and when her head snapped in surprise and anger he kissed her. The fire went into their kiss and she had to push away reminding him of their intent to deal with their difficulties without distractions.

"No fair," she chided pushing him away. "If you cheat, the gloves are coming off and you'll be sorry," she pouted.

"I think more than gloves are coming off," he teased, "and no…for that I will not be sorry."

She scowled fiercely and returned to the subject at hand. She forced herself not to flirt with her lover, but it was harder than she thought it would be. They were going to be in big trouble when they returned to work, she realized.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hurricane – Chapter 12**

They'd had lunch, for him that consisted of a big juicy burger and a plate full of brightly colored fruits, none of which he could interest her in. She had chicken salad sandwich and a Pellegrino. Charlie favored orange soda as they sat in the sun under his umbrella shade on the patio and did not talk about work or vast criminal conspiracies for a half an hour or more. Dani's eyes were drawn to the pool's blue green water as a bead of sweat made it's way from her hairline down her spine wetting her shirt along the way.

"We'd better go inside," Charlie suggested, "before we end up in the pool."

Her look was cryptic.

"What?" he wondered with a wink, "You think I don't know what you're thinking? You think I don't want what you want?" He stared hard at her. "Because I do," he smiled looking very confident.

"Let's talk about what I want later," she smiled enjoying his boyishness. "For now, tell me why the Seybolts were killed," she returned them to the business of mayhem, murder and manipulation.

"I'm not sure," he vacillated and she narrowed her eyes.

"Tell me what you think," she demanded, "because unlike you I don't read minds."

"Rayborn said they'd been watching me, since before the Academy. I don't know who 'they' are and I don't know for what purpose, but the motive was always supposed to be that Tom was laundering money and that he was skimming."

Dani said nothing so he continued, but watched her eyes carefully; " I know that's not true because the day he was killed they found a job application for a taxi permit in Tom's desk. Why do you need a second job if you are skimming?"

"I read the report. When I found out we were going to be partners, I took it home and read it cover to cover," she divulged.

"And?" He wanted to know what she thought, what she saw, how it appeared to her. Dani was not only his lover, she was a great detective and he valued her viewpoint, but nothing prepared him for the question she asked.

"What struck me is how does a rookie policeman, three years out of the Academy, swing the cash to be part owner in a bar? I couldn't do it now and I'm a Detective. So how'd you do it Crews?"

He was dumbstruck. She'd wondered about him. She'd doubted his innocence. Not that he killed that family, but that he was somehow more financially capable than he should have been. He reasoned therefore that she must have at least considered that he was on the take, that he was dirty cop.

"If you thought that," he questioned when he recovered enough to speak, "why keep me on as a partner? Why not get away - as far and as fast as you could? You had chances – a couple of them as I recall. Why not turn me in to the Rat Squad? They had to have asked you to," his questions tumbled from his lips like water from a faucet.

"They did," she said making him wait for more while she pulled on her Pellegrino and swallowed. "I don't follow instructions well. I don't play nice with others. Maybe you've noticed?" He nodded and his eyes begged her for more.

"I like to make up my own mind about people. I don't like being told what to do and who to do it to. They wanted you too bad – too much. I'm stubborn like that," she added.

"I love that about you," he smiled.

"You love that now," she teased. "Not so much at work as I recall. Now tell me how you were able to afford that Charlie," her voice held iron. She no longer thought he was dirty, but her curiosity remained. Her loyalty impressed him even more when he realized that she was never sure about him at all. It would have been so easy for her to give them what they wanted - him - on a silver platter. It would have made her life easier, but Dani didn't do things the easy way - another of the things he loved about the difficult woman staring hard at him, waiting for him to tell her his truths.

"My dad," he said simply. "My father has money. Always did. My mother insisted that I attend public school and it made me learn that everyone didn't have the things we did. I met Tom Seybolt when he was a senior and I was a freshman. We had such grand plans, but I wanted to be a cop. Killed my dad. My mother tolerated it because she loved me. Tom and I wanted to open a club where we felt at home. He was old enough for a liquor license before I was. He found the place; I found the money. Dad was happy I was thinking about something other than policing and Mom well she just wanted me happy. Why? Wasn't that in the file?"

"Nope," she replied solidly. "They weren't interested in how you got there or why – only in how to make you go away. It's bad police work. There was no motive. If you don't ask the right questions you'll never arrive at the right conclusion," she explained the underlying theory that tied both their lives together. His questions were more basic now, hers more professional, but that statement summed up their lives.

"That's Zen you know," he reminded softly.

She considered his statement for a moment and then shrugged, "I guess it is." She accepted his assertion after consideration without question or discussion.

Their fiercely divergent lives were funneling into a single pursuit and he was watching it happen. Soon his questions would be her questions and her answers would be his. They would be one – just as he'd wanted. It didn't take a ring or a piece of paper or even a profession of love. It just took this – them traveling the same path, at the same pace, in the same direction. It was beautiful.

"Is there more?" her question was innocent and full of trust that he'd tell her the truth.

"Yes," he replied simply, "there is always more."

"And my father? He left this world the way he did because he could no longer keep up with the lies. Or the lies he told were collapsing on him," she supposed.

"Or in his own way he was trying to protect you and your mother from having to bear the weight of his sins," Charlie suggested

"Like I don't have enough of my own sins to deal with," Dani scoffed in a self-effacing way. "You think my father would do that for me Crews?"

"Yes," he told her what he knew to be true. "I believe he would, I believe he did. I'd like to think that he loved you in his own way, but what I think isn't important - what you think is."

"I don't know if that's love Crews," she argued, "killing yourself to avoid embarrassment or jail? You didn't. You stayed alive, you endured. In the face of everything and everyone you believed in failing you, you didn't quit."

Her admiration for his toughness and his perseverance was palpable. He had no words.

She continued boldly, bravely and ahead of where he even dreamed their journey on that day would take them. "Here's what I do know. Do you remember our very first case together? The one where John Gibney's dog…"

He nodded recalling the exchange. He knew where she was going next and he finished for her showing the synchronicity of their thoughts. "The kid's dog took a bullet for him and then took out the shooter. I asked you if anyone ever loved you that much?"

"Nobody had," she murmured admitting something she tried hard to deny but could hide from no longer, "not until you. That's love Charlie. That's real." She leaned into his space and kissed him, but this kiss was unlike the others, it was gentle and sweet and all the things he knew Reese could be if she stopped pretending to be the tough young woman she'd built to keep the world at bay. She kissed him like he knew she could - if she allowed herself the possibility of love – of being loved and loving someone in return.

In those moments, she was not Reese, she was just Dani – and Dani loved him.

_Author's Note: I think this story is done. LMK if you think otherwise. Thanks to those who took the time to read and review. And I'd like to close with a quote from Tolstoy - "_When you love someone, you love the person as they are, and not as you'd like them to be." In my view of this world, Dani won't change, Charlie won't ask her to. __


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